A Wizard's Tale
by Samwise Baggins
Summary: James and schoolmates perform a twisted version of A Knights Tale, with many mistakes and much humor. Harry and the others use magic to review it.
1. Chapter One

Title: Dream of a Wizard

Author: Sam  
Series: A Wizard's Tale 01/ ?

Rating: PG-13 for language, mild nudity, and some violence  
Characters: Actually, this entails not only Harry's gang, but their parents.

Summary: Hogwart's decides to reinstate the tradition of twice annual dramatic productions, one play and one musical, as only a group of wizards can perform. To start, however, they will be showing the last production, from 25 years ago, that was done at Hogwart's, including James and Lily Potter, etc. The situations are taken from a combination of movie and screenplay book for A Knight's Tale.

Spoilers: Up to the end of the Fourth Book, especially the Fourth Book! Also, Spoilers for "A Knight's Tale".

Category: AU/ Humor/ Spoof

Disclaimer: I do not have rights to Harry Potter, JK Rowlings does. I do not have rights to A Knight's Tale, Brian Helgeland does. I have only borrowed the characters and situations as a means of entertaining, for free, myself and a select choice of friends. No one is making any profit off of this, and no House Elves were injured or endangered in the reproduction of this tale. Suing me would produce a list of bills and debits, and a lot of weeping, so please don't.

Setting: Hogwart's, Harry's fifth year

Notes: Anything in past tense is happening at Hogwart's in Harry's era. Anything in present tense is happening at Howart's twenty-five years ago. Got that? Minor characters in the plays are performed by unnamed students. Those who are played by people 'we know', will be verified at one point or another in the story.

Distribution: Please ask first?

Feedback: Please? I love comments: samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

* * *

Character Names you may not recognize:

Frank = Frank Longbottom, Neville's father  
Lily = Lily Evans, Harry's mother  
Regina = Alice Caulwell, Neville's mother (last name not released, so I put one in)

* * *

The Sorting Ceremony was complete for yet another year. Thus, as the first years adjust to their new status, and the elder students welcome the youngest of their ranks, a delicate chiming shimmered over the hall. Silence met the ringing of silver on crystal, and all heads turned towards the Head Table. Professor McGonagall put down her spoon, also turning to gaze upon the Headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore.

He rose from his chair, tall and regal, old and wise, loved and respected. Turning his head slowly, to encompass the entire staff and student body of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the venerable man smiled slowly. His voice was kind and strong as he raised his hands and spoke.

"Now that we've settled among our fellows," he smiled fondly at the newest students, "I have an important announcement to make. We, the staff, feel it is time to rouse a sleeping tradition. Time was when Hogwart's was known for not only brilliant Wizards and Witches, but for creative ones as well. Unfortunately, that creativity has been buried and allowed to lie dormant."

He looked over towards Harry Potter, smiled, and continued. "Twenty-five years ago, Howart's held it's last Dramatic Production, as well as its last Musical Production. It is time to revive those dramatic collaborations. This will be a school effort. In one week's time we will hold auditions for the first piece. Those who are not a named character will become a background player as well as crafters of sets and costumes."

Quietly, the students started whispering amongst themselves. Some of the questions overheard were among the lines of:

"Why would we want to be in a play?"

"Why hasn't it been done in twenty-five years?"

"Twenty-five years? Who was here then?"

"Do you think the professors will be involved, or do we have to do all the work?"

"What do you think they'll pick to perform?"

"What's for breakfast tomorrow?"

Harry looked at Ron and blinked. "Did you just ask about breakfast? You're only just about to have supper."

Ron shrugged. "I like to plan these things?"

Hermoine rolled her eyes. "Shhhh, I am trying to hear. They've just mentioned which play we're to do, and I couldn't hear."

Ron rolled his eyes right back, but hushed up. Professor Dumbledore let the students discuss what they'd been told, sitting down to join the other professors in the traditional "First Day Feast". Hermoine harrumphed and crossed her arms, glaring at Ron and Harry.

"Just fine. I've gone and missed what play we're performing. Thanks loads, Ron."

"Don't worry, Hermoine. We can find out from somebody else. The others heard, I'm sure." With that, Harry turned to Neville on his other side. "Neville, what play are we doing?"

Neville nearly choked on his mashed potatoes when asked. He hadn't expected anyone to address him. Coughing, while Harry pounded his back, he turned wide eyes to the others. Finally, he croaked out, "Uh... he didn't say, actually."

"Of course he did, Neville. I heard him myself." Hermoine flipped her hair back over her shoulder, but it didn't do as she'd planned. Instead it kind of wobbled and flounced right back into her face. She sighed and pushed it back with one hand. "Only I didn't catch the name as Ron as talking with Harry."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Neville cut him off. "Oh, but he didn't say, Hermoine. He'd only said the last play done here was A Wizard's Tale, and that we'd find out what we're doing when we audition."

Seamus leaned over Neville to join in the conversation. "There's to be a special viewing of A Wizard's Tale tomorrow. We'll get to see the last class that performed it."

Ron shrugged. "So, what's the big deal? A bunch of half-rate student actors got up on a stage and made stupid long speeches about dragons and potions, right?"

Seamus' eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously.

Neville cut in. "My father was a seventh year here twenty-five years ago. I wonder if he was in it."

"Your father?" Harry turned sharply to his chubby friend. "But, that'd mean my parents were here, too..."

Hermoine smiled. "Then, let's go to the viewing, Harry. You can see if they're in the play."

Talk revolved around who else might have been in school then, and what the story had entailed. Ron still seemed doubtful, even after it was pointed out that his parents would have both been in school then, too. It was much later, though most hardly noticed the passage of time, when the gong was sounded, ending the feast.

Climbing the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room, Harry thought over the events of the night. The possibility of seeing his parents, even if it were only in a school play, was enticing. He had to find out when and where it was showing. He resolved to ask the Weasley twins when he got the chance.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


"All right, students, quiet down." Professor Minerva McGonagall's voice carried over the Transfiguration classroom. As requested, the class immediately stopped talking and turned to face their first professor of the week. She had on dark emerald colored robes and a tall pointed emerald hat, as was her norm. Standing with her hands inside her sleeves, Minerva let her eyes roam the group of fifth year Gryffindor and Slytherin students. Finally, she spoke again.

"We are going to take this one class to view the final production of the Hogwart's Dramatics Society. I would request that you attempt to remain quiet, so as not to interrupt the viewing for the other students. Questions should be withheld until the end of class." With that, she moved to the door and nodded.

Professor Flitwick entered, accompanied by a heavily perfumed Madame Trelawney. Both professors moved to the center of the room and took out their wands. Together they quickly spoke words, only half of which even Hermoine understood, and flicked their wands in an intricate pattern. The teachers backed up, and the room filled with a misty white haze.

As the haze dissipated, images, life like and audible, flickered across the empty space.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


The sounds of a great crowd, interspersed with the occasional call of a trumpet, swell into the area. A long near-level expanse of sparsely treed land shows signs of hastily erected tents and grazing horses. Off to the side, a lone, very large figure squats behind a bush, leaning his back against a tree as if for a break in whatever activity he is occupied in.

Two older teens stand with the bush between them and the large man. One teen is a rotund, friendly-faced young man with brown hair and green tunic. The other is fair of face, with fine brown eyes and longish blond curls. He sports a full beard and mustache, reminiscent of one who has neither time nor inclination to smooth his features with a shave. He also has a strip of cloth shoved up each nostril.

The blond turns his head to look at his companion. "He has to be in the lists in two minutes. Two minutes or we forfeit."

The rotund teen nods, and waves a hand under the blond's nose. "Lend us those."

Complying, the blond takes the cloth from his nose and holds each out in turn, "Left... Right..."

"Right." The darker of the two shoves the cloth in his nose and heads over to the large man.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Suddenly a gasp went out in the classroom, earning a disapproving glare from McGonagall. "That's Hagrid! The really big guy: it's Hagrid!"

Another voice broke in, timidly. "My father's the brown haired guy." People turned to look at Neville, and several studied the now frozen image to compare the darker teen with his son. Murmurs of agreement could be heard.

Then Draco Malfoy's voice sneered out, "well then, if Longbottom's father is the fat guy, and the groundskeep is the big lug, who's the blond, hmmm?"

Quietly, into the confused anticipation of the classroom, McGonagall's voice carried. "James Potter played William, the blond."

Now stares were pointed at Harry. The young dark haired boy ignored them, though. He was too intent on leaning forward and absorbing the frozen image of his father at seventeen years old. True, his father naturally had possessed hair as dark as his son's, but a good deal of costume and make-up were the reasons behind his altered appearance. Harry smiled.

"Now, if we've all finished comparing actors, let us continue. And..."she held up a hand, before anyone asked, "the red-head coming up will be Arthur Weasley, and the blond man a bit later will be Remus Lupin." The class turned quickly so as not to miss the next bit, Ron looking curious.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Frank kneels down next to Hagrid, placing a hand under his nose for a moment. Dropping his hand, he turns to James with a sigh. "Dead."

A tall, thin man dressed in loose peasant clothing, with a shock of bright red hair, strolls up. He seems extremely happy, grinning and chatting away to those he approaches. "Two scores to none after two spells. All Sir Ector needs to do is not fall off his broom, and we've won."

Frank looks up. "He's dead."

Arthur looks confused. "What do you mean dead?"

"The spark of his life is covered in shite. His spirit has left him, but his stench remains. Does that explain it?"

Arthur's jolly mood leaves suddenly, visibly, as he desperately says, "No! He sleeps. Rouse him!"

Frank shakes his head, and Arthur hurries up to them.

"We're minutes from victory. I haven't eaten in three days."

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Snickers ranged around the classroom, and whispered comments about the notorious Weasley appetite abounded. Ron flushed at the comments, but he kept his eyes on the vision before them. Harry merely leaned forward to catch a better look at his father.

***

James shakes his head. "None of us have, Wat."

Arthur replies, "Sir Ector has or where would all of this shite've come from?"

"We need to fetch a priest," is Frank's addition to the strained conversation. He seems resigned.

"He's not dead!" Arthur stumbles over to Hagrid. "He's asleep, and I'll wake him if I have to fong him!" He starts kicking Hagrid, interspersing his kicks with curses and comments about being hungry.

Frank sighs, but James looks grim and full of resolve.

At this point, the Master-Of-Arms approaches. He is a lanky man dressed in finery, marking him an important tournament official. He frowns at the scene by the bush and tree. James steps in view, blocking the sight of Arthur kicking Hagrid.

Master-At-Arms calls out "Hoy, Squire. Sir Ector must report at once or forfeit the match."

Frank opens his mouth as Arthur keeps swearing and kicking Hagrid. Hagrid flinches, but continues trying to pretend to be dead.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Giggles abound and Ron shakes his head. "I think Dad was kicking him too hard."

Minerva sighed, frowning at the class. Every time they spoke loudly, the image froze. McGonagall had a feeling that this would be an all day class.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


In answer to the Master-At-Arms' demand, Frank starts to open his mouth and gesture towards the bruised Hagrid. James steps forward a pace and interrupts the other teen.

"He's on his way!"

The Master-At-Arms moves off as James turns to the other two. "Strip his robes. I'm riding in his place." He moves next to Arthur as Frank frowns. "Stop kicking him and help me!"

With a last vicious kick, which earns a grunt from Hagrid, Arthur leaves off kicking the large man. Frank looks incredulous as Arthur and James start stripping Hagrid's robes.

"What's your name, William?" Frank asks. When he gets no answer, he continues, "I'm asking you, William Thatcher, to answer me with your name!"

James turns and looks a bit confused.

"It's not Sir William. It's not Duke or Count or Earl William, and it's certainly not King William."

"I'm aware of that." James starts to turn back to Hagrid and Arthur.

Frank glares, "you have to be of noble birth to compete!"

"A detail," James counters. He turns around, flinging out one hand, nearly smashing Arthur in the head, and earning a definitely glare from the red head. "The landscape is food. Do you want to eat or don't you?"

Arthur, almost unnoticed in the back, starts nodding and shoves Hagrid aside. The half-giant lands squarely in a pile of brown mush, set there as a prop. A disgusted snort comes from their general direction.

Frank shakes his head. "If the nobles realize who you are, there'll be the devil to pay."

James grins grimly. "Then pray they don't." He turns back to get the padded hat used for safety, and makes a face. For a moment the teens forget they are in a play as they stare at Hagrid lying in the brown mush. The man's nose is twitching, and he looks a bit green.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


"Ewwww... that's gross!" Pansy Parkinson squealed, shaking her head in disgust as the mist froze.

Ron rolled his eyes and called back, "It's probably porridge, Pansy."

Pansy glared at him, then turned back to the haze. "It's still gross, Weasley. You won't catch me letting anyone shove me into brown mush when we do our production."

"I don't think Hagrid had intended it to happen," Harry quietly added.

Everyone in the room suddenly turned to Harry, all of them aware that he'd not met his parents and was now seeing his father, probably for the first time. Harry pushed his glasses back up on his nose and looked around, flushing. He slouched into his seat and turned to Ron, rolling his eyes.

The thin red-head grinned and looked around. "Looks like your going to be the talk again this year, Harry."

Harry groaned. "Can't they let me be? I don't need attention or fame..."

"Then stop spouting off Potter so the play can get on." Draco's supercilious voice drawled across the room.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Arthur collects himself first and kicks Frank in the ankle. Frank blinks and calls out in a confused sounding voice, "God love you William." His voice grows firmer and he draws his eyes from Hagrid to look resignedly at James. "No one else will."

The scene cuts to the Lists. It is day and the crowds are cheering and singing. The area looks oddly like the Quidditch Field with the Hoops decorated to disguise them. The Master-of-Arms stands on a raised dais surrounded by professors dressed as nobility. All are seated. The students are dressed as commoners and stand around the bottom of the dais in two long lines. The center of the pitch is set in a 100 yard field with a four foot barrier separating the two halves.

On the far side is a Knight, emblazoned with a Unicorn, head bowed, on his robes. He is on a broom and surrounded by his servants.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


"What's this, then?" Dean Thomas sat forward in his chair. "Knights didn't ride brooms! They rode horses!"

McGonagall turned and frowned. "And we are a Wizard's school. We took liberties to make it easier for the students to portray. Are you going to watch or pick apart every detail, Mister Thomas?"

The embarrassed Gryffindor student shut up, slumping into his chair dejectedly.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Amazingly enough, the crowd isn't acting upset by the delay. They're dancing and stomping. A rousing beat can be heard *stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap.* Master-of-Arms is rocking to the crowd's beat. Finally, however, as the small band approaches, the crowd falls silent and the Master-of-Arms crosses his arms, staring in disapproval. The trio wearing the White Stag of Sir Ector settle on their side of the field, James on his broom.

The King-of-Arms steps forward. In a ringing voice, he calls out, "The score stands at two spells to none in favor of Sir Ector, second son of Henry Earl of Surrey, liege knight to Duke Robert of Essex... Lord Philip of Aragon, first son of Prince Philip of Aragon, stand ye ready?"

Unfortunately, when the unicorn knight nods and tries to lower his visor, it sticks. He tries again, his varlet trying to help. It still stays up. The crowd watches in amusement as the poor knight removes his safety hat, exposing bright blonde curls, which spill down _her_ back. She gets off her broom, stamps her foot and says something to her varlet, who takes the visored hat and starts trying to get it unjammed. Finally, with an ungodly ripping, the visor comes down and the varlet shoves it back on the girl's head. She yelps in pain, then straightens, climbs on her broom, and turns to bow at the Master-of-Arms. The crowd sniggers.

James already has his visor down, and his eyes are visible for a brief moment before the scene starts to shift again.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


"Are we going to be jumping back and forth the entire thing, Professor?" Crabbe's slow voice came forward as he was elbowed by Draco.

McGonagall turned and glared. "Yes, Mister Crabbe. You will be shifting back and forth. Try to keep up with the production and it will eventually become clear."

"So, the mist will go away?"

McGonagall turned annoyed eyes on Goyle. "No. Now please refrain from talking."

Ron grinned and rolled his eyes, whispering to Harry, "Some people just don't appreciate a good illusion spell."

To Be Continued in Chapter Two: Dream of a Wizard


	2. Chapter Two

Title: A Wizard's Tale; Chapter Two

Author: Sam

Note: This has been an extremely long time in coming, and for that I am very sorry. I lost my script for A Knight's Tale for four years, sigh. Now, I've found the script and lost both of my copies of the DVD. However, with script in hand, I have decided to give it the old college try. Thus, if some scenes seem odd, it's because I am reverting to the script when my memory fails me concerning the movie. I hope this does not disappoint.

Feedback: Please? I love comments.

xxx

When the mist starts its pulsing images and sounds again, the shifting scene circles to face the pitch from the side, rather than from behind James. It is clear that James is daydreaming, his eyes watching off-scene and a smile playing over his young face.

Master at Arms calls out, "Sir Ector, stand ye ready?"

James apparently misses his cue, as he keeps grinning and staring off scene and Master at Arms looks confused, concern slowly crossing his features. "Sir, Ector," he calls even louder, "stand ye ready!" He glances hopefully over at the star performer, only to frown in frustration as James continues to daydream.

Frank finally punches James in the kidney… hard.

James yelps and whirls around, glaring at Frank. A blush suffuses his face, however, as a few muffled sniggers come from the nearby students portraying peasants. He turns a confused, sheepish look on Master of Arms.

---

Draco snorted, again freezing the images and causing McGonagall to throw up her hands in exasperation. "Not very good, is he?" He grinned malevolently at Harry's sudden frown, the other Slytherins chuckling and cackling in amusement at the jibe.

Harry chose not to answer, thus the performance resumed.

---

Master of Arms continues frowning at James and calls out in a loud, crisp, clear voice, intentionally displaying contempt for the teen who has lost his cue. "Sir Ector, stand ye ready or no?" He turns a steady, disapproving gaze directly on James, not batting an eye when it becomes apparent by their looks that the others note the altered line.

James, still apparently unable to recall his line, merely nods and reaches for his wand, which Frank is holding. Arthur steps forward, trying to help James slip the wand into the awkward holster rigged to the right side of his costume robes.

"Ready?" comes the hurried question from Arthur, the stage whisper making it apparent that the question is a scripted line, not a random comment.

With a grin, feeling back in the swing of the play, James nods at Arthur. "Of course. I have tilted against Sir Ector many times."

"As his target," interjects Frank quickly, relief on his face. He is just as pleased that the forgotten cue is smoothed over. "You were never allowed to strike him."

Regally, James gives his head a brief shake, "Badger me not with details." His had slips at his injudicious movement, and he has to take several seconds to pull it back up into place, again rousing a snicker from one of the random watching peasants.

Frank nods decisively. "Landscape, then. **Stay on the broom**…"

His comment is interrupted by a guffaw from the students. As if James Potter would fall from a broom, the thought is apparently too ludicrous for the students to resist. They are ignored by the chubby teen.

"He needs three spells to beat you so a tossed wand will not win it for him. He must knock you off the broom."

James' tone rises louder, sounding annoyed. "I know how to score!" The effect is quite impressive and the Unicorn Knight across the pitch shudders in reaction. With that, Frank and Arthur step back away from James and the temporarily blond teen stares down the pitch at the Unicorn Knight, who in her turn starts determinedly back.

As if on an after thought, James sighs out, "I've waited my whole life for this."

Arthur turns, surprise registering in his eyes as he claims incredulously, "You've waited your whole life for Sir Ector to shite himself to death?" His expression is eloquent enough.

---

The entire classroom exploded in giggles and chuckles, instantly freezing the dramatic scene in the center of the room. McGonagall rolled her expressive eyes, reminded yet again why it was they'd finally determined that running dramatics at Hogwarts was a bad idea. It was far too disruptive. She privately questioned Albus' plans for reinstating the better-off-forgotten activity. After all, if a simple play had this reaction this early into a viewing, imagine their reactions to a musical production.

Finally, McGonagall stepped forward and clapped her hands together loudly. The students turned instantly to watch her, smiles abounding on youthful faces. "Enough. If you wish to watch this production, you must remain in control. I will not allow this kind of disruption." And by her tone, she meant every derogatory-sounding word. The smiles were gone in a flash.

The fog swirled once more.

---

With a rush, the Unicorn Knight is off, heading into the sky on her broom. James appears to have a little more trouble as his broom overshoots the intended mark and he has to circle around to get back into place for the staged attack; he is muttering under his breath during the entire maneuver. There are cheers from the watching student-peasants and noble-teachers, and attendants from both sides, Frank and Arthur among them, rush forward cheering and yelling encouragement. Finally, James is heading slowly enough in the proper direction, but seems to be having trouble retrieving his wand from his holster. The Unicorn Knight is bearing down on him quickly, her wand raised in the traditional dueling pose.

Suddenly, the Unicorn Knight seems to worry. She hasn't cast her spell, and her broom is getting far too close to James' for safety. Instead of making another circuit as James had done, she flings out her arm, calling a wind-muffled spell that is unintelligible. James screams "Expelliarmus!" and the Unicorn Knight's wand flies out of her hand and to the ground below.

He raises his wand to use his own spell, but she panics and throws out a fist, hitting James square in the face. With a yelp of pain, the girl whirls her broom too quickly and falls, heading speedily towards the ground. One of the noble-teachers flips out a wand and almost casually calls "Arresto Momentum", slowing the Unicorn Knight's rapid fall into a gentle descent and soft landing.

James is still reeling from the shock and pain, blood evident under visor. Apparently his padded hat and visor do not do a good enough job of protecting him from unlooked for physical blows. However, he is listing dangerously on his sharply diving broom, the punch having knocked him semi-unconscious. He is barely awake enough to bring his broom out of the dive as Arthur and Frank run forward to help him. Arthur tries to pull him from the broom, but not until James mutters indistinguishably low does his slip to the ground. It is apparent to many a spectator that the teen had cast a spell on himself to prevent slipping, and it has indeed come in handy.

Cheering and jumping, Arthur slips James to the ground and pulls him enthusiastically to a semi-standing position. As the other teen lists dangerously against his fellow performers, the redhead calls out, "We did it! We won!"

Frank throws a supporting arm around the staggering blond teen, stage-whispering "Are you all right, Will?" Whatever has been scripted to happen certainly has not, but the brunette was gamely continuing with the production.

"I think my face is broken…" comes the muffled reply, and James leans heavily into Frank's supporting shoulder.

---

Harry sighed, not loudly enough to disrupt the viewing, though. He wished he knew that spell his father had cast. It would come in handy during a quidditch match, not falling from a broom. It would also be helpful if, say, dementors came onto the pitch again for some ungodly reason… not that he felt Professor Dumbledore would even let dementors on school grounds ever again. He blinked troubled green eyes and forcefully drew his attention back to the scene before him, having missed a bit of action, apparently.

---

The Knights are lined up in front of the noble-teachers to one side of the pitch. Their servants and varlets are close behind the Knights, and the peasant-students are further behind them. A younger version of Professor Flitwick stands behind a youthful appearing Madame Pomfrey. Both are dressed in rich, velvet robes, Madame Pomfrey holding a golden pillow on which a gold-minted feather lies. Master at Arms steps forward and calls out, impressively, "Sir Ector!"

James has apparently stopped bleeding and wiped away what had fallen, as the blood is gone, though his visor and hat are still firmly in place. He steps forward.

Master at Arms frowns at the blond and curtly says, "Remove your helmet, Sir Ector!"

Arthur and Frank exchange dread-filled glances and start edging backwards and Professor Flitwick attempts to look disapproving of the rude knight before him.

With a genuine sounding sigh, James gingerly touches the visor and replies in a muffled voice, "My Lord, I'm afraid the blow of the… err… spell… has bent it to my head."

With an impressed look, giving evidence that the line was altered for the circumstances, Master of Arms turns towards the two ducal professors. "My Lord, he says that…"

Professor Flitwick, quite pleased with the progress of the school production, flips a negligent wave. "Yes, I heard him. It's fine, McGrady, fine."

Master at Arms, or McGrady as was now revealed, nodded and called out, "My Lord, I present your champion!"

Relief crosses the faces of Frank and Arthur, and the redhead nudges the brunette happily. Professor Pomfrey holds out the golden pillow, but James blindly grasps and misses. Coming to his rescue, Frank grips the pretend knight's elbow and guides him to the golden feather, which James clutches and raises high into the air. He turns and raises it again, amid shouts and cheers from the rest of the cast.

The cast start wandering off at that point, mostly heading for the castle, when James, Arthur, and Frank fall into step, moving at a rather slow pace.

Frank gives a hearty laugh and grins at James. "The final blow bent it onto my head. Brilliant, Will!"

James tries to pull the hat and visor off and finally gives up and wails, "It's the truth! I'm suffocating!"

The other two turn surprised looks onto the compatriot and hurriedly guide him over to a make-shift blacksmith set near the castle entrance. The student standing there, adding finishing touches to some of the props for later scenes looks up in confusion, hissing out, "What are you doing? You're supposed to be on the way towards Hagrid's for this scene… I'm in it later."

Arthur shrugs and Frank shoves James towards the prop anvil, which apparently is a real anvil as the blond grunts in pain when his head slams onto it. They are aware that the recording spell is still centered on them as the leads, so are staying in character as Arthur calls out, "We need to remove his hat, Good Smith."

The student rolls his eyes in confusion but nods and applies the tip of his wand to the crack at the back of James reinforced hat. Frank turns towards Arthur and sighs out, "I don't think this is what King Arthur had in mind."

The mist swirls, signaling a change of scene, finally.

---

To be continued in Chapter Three


End file.
